


A Moment Worth Remembering

by afteriwake



Series: Where Speech Ends [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft thinks Sherlock is dragging his feet in setting up a plan to catch Moriarty so he decides to put his own into play, using Irene Adler as bait. When Sherlock wakes up to find her in his home making breakfast the two have a series of conversations that keep coming back to Sherlock's relationship with Molly and his inexperience in the sexual arts. As a way of soothing any ruffled feathers her presence may cause Irene plans a romantic holiday for Sherlock and Molly, one that leads to the two of them taking another step forward in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment Worth Remembering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [horrorfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorfangirl/gifts).



> And finally, the one I'm fairly sure everyone's been waiting for (fourteen stories into the series before it went explicit...I think that's a new record). **horrorfangirl** wanted a loss of virginity fic, and that's what she got in this story, with all the nervousness that goes with it. Also, there is bonus Irene Adler, which is something else she had asked for. The song that inspired this fic is a mash-up of Taylor Swift's "Style" and Ellie Goulding's "Love Me Like You Do" which is called "Love Me Like Your Style." I don't know who exactly made the mash-up but it's brilliant and definitely worth a listen.

**What makes you nervous?**

The sound of an erotic moan ripped through the early morning silence in his bedroom, and within seconds Sherlock's eyes were wide open. He was quite thankful Molly had decided not to spend the night the evening before. While there had been nothing more done than holding her close while they slept, he imagined the fact it was a specific erotic moan used as a text alert that would anger Molly quite a bit. He had told her the truth about Irene Adler, and the meaning behind that ringtone, though truth be told he could have sworn his replacement phone didn't have that particular alert.

He picked up his phone and pulled up the lone text message waiting for him. He started to suspect the worst when he saw Irene listed as the sender of the text, which meant at some point while he'd been asleep she had to have gotten access to his phone, which meant she, too, had decided to resurrect herself from the dead. With a sigh he opened it. _Have breakfast with me_ was all it said, and he knew then without a doubt that when he made his way out into the kitchen The Woman would be out there. Very well then, he decided. He needed battle armor. He got out of bed and went to his closet, changing into his sharpest suit. He paired it with a maroon shirt, and after a moment went for the cufflinks Molly had given him for his birthday. A tacit reminder of her would do very well to keep him focused on figuring out what Irene wanted and getting rid of her as quickly as possible. His life always got infinitely more confusing when Irene was involved in it. 

Once he felt he was ready he went out to the kitchen. Irene was at the stove, her hair down and the joke apron from Mary around her waist, covering up the bottom half of a modest but expensive black sheath. He cleared his throat and she turned to look at him. “You must not have had company this morning,” she said with a smile. “That was quite quick.”

“You know full well I was in bed alone,” he said with a scowl as he moved closer to her. “You would have had to when you programmed your number into my mobile. And how did you get in here?”

“You know full well I'm a woman with many secret talents,” she said with a mock frown, mimicking his irritated tone. She was stirring something on the stove and he realized it was a sauce of some sort. A Hollandaise, from the looks of it. “For example, did you know I can cook gourmet meals?”

“I don't care about your secret talents, Irene,” he said. “I want to know what you want. Why you're here.”

“Because your brother has decided you're taking too long to formulate your plan against Moriarty and I'm to be dangled as bait,” she said, turning back to the sauce. “Moriarty was one of the many people I'm told who celebrated my death. I know quite a few secrets, after all. Including his.”

“New secrets or old ones?” Sherlock asked, becoming interested despite himself.

“Mostly old ones, but not even Mycroft knows those,” she said. “But there are some new ones. Some very _enticing_ new ones. You'd be surprised how easy it is to pick up secrets even when you're pretending to be someone else, especially when it's your way of paying your penance.”

“So you were working for Mycroft,” he said slowly.

“For the most part,” she said. “I have kept a few juicy tidbits to myself. It never hurts to have a little insurance, just in case.” She finished stirring the sauce and removed it from the heat. “I hope you enjoy Eggs Benedict. It was what I was in the mood for this morning.”

“I suppose I can stomach it,” he said.

“Good.” She went about finishing preparing the meal, adding a bit of a ham slice to each plate, and after she took off the apron she picked up a plate and took it to the table. Sherlock picked up the other one and followed her, sitting across from her. He saw now she had already put silverware down for them. She picked up her eating utensils and began to eat, leaving them in silence. Sherlock did the same, but the longer the silence stretched the more his irritation grew. It wasn't until she was almost done when she spoke. “Oh, you're quite livid, aren't you? You want details and I'm not giving them.”

“I'm irritated,” he corrected. “And growing moreso by the minute.”

“Well, then let me help ease it before you do something we'll both regret,” she said. “Moriarty thinks his secrets are safe, because he has slowly been getting rid of those who know them. So two months ago Mycroft had someone let slip I was actually still alive to a member of his rebuilt organization, and I've been leading him on a merry little goose chase.”

“Ending it right at my door, apparently,” he said, leaning back in his chair and glaring at her as he crossed his arms. “I expect he'll come after you here now?”

“Well, _he_ won't,” she said. “For such a delicate problem he'll have his second in command come take care of me. Mycroft hopes to catch him and get the last dredges of information on Moriarty that you so desperately need.”

“If I remember correctly, he was behind the plot I foiled when I first came back to London,” Sherlock said.

“Oh, the bomb plot wasn't meant to succeed,” she said, waving her hand. “It was a test to see if the rumors of your miraculous resurrection were true. Once he confirmed they were he put his new plan into motion.”

“And I'm sure you know all about it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It's amazing what you can get people to admit in the sanctity of the boudoir,” she said with a seductive smile. “But I'm sure you know that. Your girlfriend must say all sorts of things in the afterglow.”

Despite himself he reddened slightly. “I suppose.”

She studied him for a long moment, and then her eyes went wide. “Oh dear Lord. The reports in the tabloids are absolute rubbish. Don't tell me you're actually a _virgin_! Really, Sherlock?”

“My sexual habits are none of your concern,” he said gruffly. 

“Oh but I thought _surely_ you and your girlfriend were shagging,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “I mean, it's to be expected when she comes over mid evening and leaves in the early morning.”

“Were you spying on me?” he asked.

“No need. All I had to do was follow the tabloids. They do quite a good job of tracking you. Better than a private investigator, to be honest.” She grinned at him. “I can't believe you're still a virgin.”

“Maybe I just don't want to talk about my exploits,” he countered.

“A man who has the exploits mentioned by the other woman you've been involved with wouldn't blush at the mere mention of post coital talk,” she said smugly. “Which means everything she said was an absolute lie. But it does leave you quite a reputation to live up to, especially since I'm fairly sure your girlfriend is _not_ in the same situation you are.”

Sherlock shut his eyes. Damn her and her perceptiveness, he thought to himself. “How soon can you leave?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, not until Moriarty's man makes his move,” she said. “So at least a few more hours. And you need to stay here to babysit me while we wait for the plan to come to fruition.”

He was going to murder his brother, he really was. With Molly's help he could probably get away with it, too. He counted slowly in his head to twenty and then opened his eyes. “As soon as the plan is finished you will leave. Immediately.”

“I will, I swear,” she said. Then she tilted her head slightly. “You're afraid my presence will put a damper on things, aren't you?”

“Molly is a tolerant woman, but she knows you're obsessed with me. She won't be pleased you're here.”

“ _Was_ obsessed, Sherlock. Past tense. I've moved on from you.” She looked at her mobile, which she had set next to her plate. “You made your feelings about me quite clear the night in Egypt after you rescued me, and I've respected that. If I hadn't, you would have heard from me much more frequently, and I wouldn't have insisted Mycroft spring this trap when she wasn't here.” She scrolled through a few pages, and then picked up her mobile, keying things in. After ten minutes she set it back down. “I expect this to all be taken care of by eleven this morning. Eleven thirty at the latest. So when your dear Molly finishes her shift at the hospital you can whisk her away for a romantic weekend away, courtesy of me.”

He stared at her, jaw hanging open slightly. “And just why would you do that?” he asked after a moment.

“Because what there was between us was a one-sided infatuation,” she said, her voice becoming more quiet. “I may not know her, but from photographs I've seen and the text messages I happened to glance through when I had your phone what you have with her is more than infatuation. It is a deep and abiding love. And as my presence will have the potential to make things a bit sticky I want to help smooth it over.” She looked up at him. “I may willingly use my body for pleasure and profit, but at heart I'm a bit of a romantic. I may never have the grand love affair, but I do like to see others be that lucky.”

He was surprised by that. He had always thought Irene to be cold and calculating, though he admitted that opinion had changed a bit when they were in Egypt. They had talked for quite a few hours, and at a few points the conversation had turned personal. He had almost thought she would be there when he woke up, but she had left, taking the luggage, the new identification and the bank cards provided by Mycroft for her with her. He had thought that would be the last he saw of her until now. He watched her go back to her food once she took her attention away from him again, and then he glanced at his watch. It was eight now. Within three or four hours she would be gone again to who knew where except Mycroft. He supposed he would just have to make the best of it, he realized before going back to his own food.

When they were done and the dishes were put in to be washed she moved into the sitting room and sat in John's old chair. He hesitated for a few minutes and then joined her, sitting in his own chair. The minutes ticked by as neither of them spoke, but this time there was no irritation building the longer the silence stretched. He picked up a stray case file and began to browse through it while Irene devoted her attention to her phone. At half past ten she finally spoke. “I suppose it will be soon that I'm out of your hair again,” she said as she looked up at him.

“I suppose,” he replied.

She got up out of the chair and moved to him, sitting on the arm of his chair. “Exactly how far have you gone in your relationship with her?”

“It's none of your business,” he said, not looking up at her and instead staring at the file, though at the moment he wasn't really reading anything in it.

“So, not very far,” she said. He scowled and she chuckled softly in response before putting a hand on his arm. “Let me give you some advice.”

“I don't want your advice,” he said brusquely.

“You may not want it, but you will thank me for it later,” she said. “Make her pleasure your number one priority. She knows what she likes, and I'm sure she'll be patient while you figure it all out. I have the feeling she will be willing to help you practice over and over until you get things right, so listen very closely to what she tells you. But if you start off by making sure she's pleased, your inexperience won't be as big an obstacle.”

He looked up at her, the scowl less noticeable. He still wasn't sure he wanted to hear advice from her, but it wasn't as though she was going into technical details or worse, suggesting he practice with her first. “I suppose I can do that,” he said.

“I'm fairly sure you can,” she said. “And one piece of more technical advice: women are more prone to multiple orgasms if you play your cards right. Tease her to her first one _before_ you work on getting your own, and try your best to let her have a second before you eventually have your own release.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. He wasn't a complete imbecile. He knew the basics of shagging and he knew bits and pieces of things he had picked up listening to other men brag about. Most men didn't care about the satisfaction of the women they were with, so perhaps that bit of advice would put him a step above them, and possibly other lovers Molly'd had before. However, if Irene started to get even more technical he was going to put a stop to it before she got in depth. But all she did was squeeze his arm and get off the arm of his chair before going into the kitchen. She was humming to herself as she moved around, and a little while later came out with the tea tray. She poured him a cup of tea and then handed him the cup and saucer. “Thank you,” he said.

“You're welcome,” she said with a nod. “What time is it?”

He checked his watch. “Ten sixteen.”

“Apparently he's early,” she said, settling down into the other chair and getting her own tea ready.

“Oh?” Sherlock asked.

Irene nodded. “I saw Mycroft's men taking him down when I glanced out the window. As soon as we're done with our tea I can take my leave and go report to Mycroft's fortress to find out what I need to do next.”

Sherlock smiled slightly. “I suppose he'll find a safe place for you. Though if he suggests here feel free to tell him I said bugger off.”

“I'll inform him that for the weekend you will be in Devon and your mobile will be off, and if he tries to contact you I will be most displeased. He knows I can be dangerous when I'm displeased.” She took a sip of her tea. “The car I ordered for you will be here at five. I suggest you call her once I leave and tell her to pack a bag for a weekend away so that she can do it quickly before you pick her up. And tell her to dress nicely; there is a reservation for dinner for the two of you at Gidleigh Park at eight.”

“I suppose I should thank you,” he said.

“Only if you end up having a good trip,” she said. “But do tell me how it goes. I'll be quite curious as to know whether you're still a virgin come Monday. And since you have my number now, it shouldn't be a problem.” Then she paused as she had more tea. “I would take the time to change my ringtone, however.”

“I'll remember to do that,” he said as he had some of his own tea. They sat in silence for ten more minutes until the front door opened and Mycroft walked in. Sherlock looked up at him. “So I see the trap you set up was successful.”

Mycroft nodded. “Quite. We should have all the information you need to take down Moriarty once and for all by Saturday afternoon.”

“You'll have to keep it to yourself until Monday,” Irene said with a smile towards Mycroft. “Sherlock will be taking a well-deserved holiday.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said, standing up. “For any inconvenience your trap may cause between him and Ms. Hooper. You aren't the type to think of such things.” She picked up her phone and placed it into her handbag, which had been sitting next to her chair. Then she went over to Sherlock, leaning over and kissing his cheek softly. “Best of luck in ridding yourself of a burden,” she said so softly that only he could hear. Then she straightened up. “All right, Mycroft. I'm all yours now.”

“I will meet you at the car,” he said with a nod. She gave Sherlock one last smile and went out towards the front door. Mycroft watched for a moment, then turned to his brother. “A holiday? Now?”

“Irene insisted,” he said. “I don't know the particulars but I assume it will only be until Sunday night. Monday morning at the latest.”

“I'll get the particulars from her to help ensure your and Molly's safety,” Mycroft said. “Moriarty might retaliate since we have his second in command now.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said.

“Enjoy this brief respite, because I think things will move at a quick pace now,” Mycroft said as he turned. “Soon Moriarty should no longer be a problem.”

“We hope,” Sherlock said. Mycroft gave a faint nod and then he too left. When he heard the door shut he dialed Molly's mobile number. She picked up on the third ring and he spoke first. “I had company this morning.”

“Oh?” she asked curiously.

“Yes. Irene Adler,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, her voice quiet and much less curious. “And why was she there?”

“To help spring a trap that Mycroft set up without informing me,” Sherlock said. “She's found a way to make up for the inconvenience. We're to be off to Devon this evening for a romantic holiday.”

There was a pause. “Irene Adler set this up? The same woman with an unwholesome obsession with you?”

“Yes. Apparently she has moved on from me. Probably to my brother, among others.”

“That is actually quite a disturbing thought,” she said.

“Yes, it is,” he replied. “Which is why I don't want to dwell on it. But I will pick you up at five. That should give you time to pack a bag quickly and wear something nice for our dinner reservation.”

“Oh, do we really have to wait? I'm at home, actually.”

“Why?” he asked, surprised. “I thought you only had the weekend off.”

“Well, something happened to the refrigeration unit and they said it would take the entire day to fix, so there was no point in coming in since my paperwork was finished. So I've been at home watching the telly.”

He thought for a moment. “Give me ten minutes and I'll see if we can leave at noon.”

“I appreciate it,” she said in a warm voice. “And I'll make sure I bring something smashing for dinner.”

“I'll text you, then,” he said.

“All right. Bye for now,” she said.

“Good-bye,” he replied before ending the call. He pulled up his text messages and went to the text Irene sent that morning before keying in a new one. _Plans changed. Want to leave at noon. Doable? SH_

There was a wait before he heard the moan again, about six minutes. _Taken care of. The car will get there at noon. Mycroft says stay in the cottage until at least five, though._

 _Very well. Thank you. SH_ he sent in reply. While he was thinking about it, he changed his text alert for Irene to something much less conspicuous and deleted the moan ringtone altogether. Then he texted Molly. _Car picking me up at noon. Will get you shortly thereafter. SH_

Molly's reply came much more quickly. _I'll be ready_ was all it said. Then a minute later came a reply from Irene, simply saying _Good luck._ He shook his head and then stowed his phone in his pocket before beginning to get ready. He still had no clue exactly where he was going, but he assumed there would be things to do so he took two suits and some more casual clothing that Molly had insisted he wear on occasion. After adding a small bag of toiletries he was ready, and he took his things back to the sitting room. After a moment he went and got the iPod that he'd stolen from Molly and took that as well. He wasn't sure if there would be a need for music but it didn't hurt to have it on hand.

There was still thirty minutes to wait, and he did so rather impatiently. He and Molly had spent time together overnight before. Quite a few times, actually. She was letting him set the pace in the steps that they took, and he had been content for things to go more slowly up until recently. But now, with them being away from London and in lodgings that meant there would be a lot of time with just the two of them together with few distractions, he wasn't sure if this would be the time when the next step was taken. And if it was, he wasn't quite sure he'd be any good at it. There was a major difference between reading things and practicing them, and while he knew the basics he'd never actually _done_ any of it or figured out exactly how it would work in real life and not just in his head. Irene's advice to listen to Molly was sensible, but he didn't know if it was in his nature to actually let someone else direct what happened in any given situation. He liked to be in control, and even though he was better about letting go of it when he had to this was a whole different arena to be following someone else's lead in. After a few minutes he dug his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up Irene's last text. _Graphic technical advice. Now. SH_

There was a reply a few minutes later with Irene's new ringtone. _That's called sexting and is better left to your girlfriend. But I'll take pity on you._ There was a short URL link underneath and he clicked it.

After a moment it loaded and he saw it was a website that had a step by step guide to the basics of sex. He scowled at the page and then went back to his texts. He _knew_ the basics. He just didn't know how to put it into practice. _I know that. Putting it into practice is problem. Help. SH_

There was another lag, and then a text. A three word text, at that. _Do things carefully._ He glared at the phone and then stowed it again, a scowl on his face. He imagined Irene was quite pleased with her cheeky response, but it did him no good. He began to pace, willing the time to pass more quickly to no avail. Finally it was noon and he heard a knock at the door. He grabbed his suitcase and garment bag and went down to open it. A man in a drivers uniform stood there. “Mr. Holmes?” Sherlock nodded. “Right this way.”

Sherlock stepped outside and closed the door behind him, locking it before he went to the car. It was a very nice car, the same type Mycroft used when he wanted to summon him. The driver took his bags and stowed them in the boot while Sherlock slipped into the car and got settled. After a moment he heard the boot lid shut, then the driver’s side door open. The partition between him and the driver came down. He gave him Molly's address and then the partition went back up. It wasn't a very long drive to her flat, something he had realized on occasions where he was escorting her home at times when he would rather have had her stay longer. The car parked outside her building and he waited, and ten minutes later the door opened up and Molly was leaning forward, looking into the car. “This is quite fancy,” she said. He could see she had dressed up a bit, wearing a sleeveless cornflower blue dress with pale white polka dots all over it and a slim white leather belt at the waist. She had on a red lipstick, a slightly more vibrant shade than she normally wore, and her hair was straightened and down across her shoulders. Even though the weather was cool she wasn't wearing her favorite black peacoat, having it draped on her arm instead. She had wanted him to pay attention to the outfit and so he definitely was going to make it a point to tell her she looked lovely.

“Well, Irene would expect nothing less herself,” he said as she sat down.

“Do you know where we're going?” she asked.

“Just that it's in Devon,” he replied. “Other than that it's a mystery.”

“Well, I think it will be nice to have a weekend away,” she said before leaning over to kiss him. She had probably intended it to be brief but he pulled her close since she hadn't buckled herself in and deepened the kiss, and she melted against him. It had been getting very hard to stop at some points, and cold showers had become even more of a regular occurrence than they usually were. It seemed as though she didn't want to move away from him, though, even when the car began to move. They only separated when the need to breathe became apparent, and she stayed more on his side of the seat. “It will definitely be nice to do more of that, at least, without worrying about any interruptions,” she said as she played with the collar of his shirt.

“I agree,” he replied, running a hand up and down her back lightly.

“And...maybe more,” she said softly, looking up at him. “If you want to, I mean. If not, just snogging. I know you don't have any experience, but if you want to...I mean, I think I'd like to go further. If you want to. I mean--”

He cut her off with another kiss, a softer one this time. She seemed to be more nervous about it than he was, which was surprising, considering the texts he'd sent Irene nearly an hour earlier. “Let's just wait and see,” he said when he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “For now, we can do more of that.”

She gave him the barest of nods. “All right.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her again, wanting to do as much of that as possible while it was just the two of them on their way to avoid the rest of the world for much of the next few days. He actually lost track of time when he felt the car come to a stop and stay stopped, and the driver’s side door open. He could hear a steady pounding on the roof, meaning it was raining. Molly pulled away from him and straightened her dress. She looked over at him and grinned. “I am quite glad to say this lipstick really does stay on my lips.”

“So no red lipstick smears I need to worry about?” he asked, fixing himself as well.

“None whatsoever,” she said as the door opened. The driver held an umbrella in view, and Molly took it before she got out. He followed and she lifted the umbrella up to cover both of them before they made a beeline for the doorway of the cottage they'd stopped in front of to get cover. “Where are we?” she asked the driver.

“Moorland View Cottage,” he said, hurrying to get their bags out of the boot. Sherlock was familiar with the place. He also knew that it was hard to get a reservation on short notice, especially for a weekend, which meant this may not actually have been a spur of the moment idea of Irene's after all. Either that or someone owed her a very big favor. He'd have to speak to her about this when he got back to London. The driver began to tell Molly more about the area and what came with staying at the cottage while he got their bags out. Sherlock was quite surprised at the fact they were to have a private chef for dinner the next evening and breakfast boxes for the three mornings they would be there, which meant he would not be back in London until sometime on Monday. Once their bags were out of the rain the driver gave Sherlock the keys and he unlocked the cottage and let himself and Molly in. He had to admit, as he got his first look, that it was quite exquisite and yet very cozy and homelike.

“Oh, this is stunning,” Molly said, her eyes wide as she looked around. There were fresh cut flowers in vases, a fireplace that would allow for a log fire, and the cottage itself was quite large. He followed her and saw there were multiple bedrooms, but they made their way to the master bedroom and Molly began to explore. After a few minutes she looked over at him. “I haven't stayed any place this nice before.”

“I haven't either, to be honest,” he said, laying his garment bag on the back of a chair. “Do you want to explore the cottage more? Mycroft said it would be best if we didn't leave until after five, just in case.”

“In case what?” she asked.

“In case the trap that was sprung this morning has any repercussions,” he said. “He wants to make sure we're safe.”

She nodded. “I will in a bit,” she said as she moved closer to him. She reached over for his hand and then began to pull him out of the bedroom. “It's a bit chilly and I think I'd like to warm up by the fireplace. And while you set that up I'll see what there is to nibble on.”

He let her pull him and when they got back to the sitting room he went over to the fireplace and got to work starting the fire while she went to the kitchen. It wasn't too hard, and soon enough they were sitting on the floor, enjoying the extra warmth. He'd gotten up and gone to the bedroom to get the iPod out of his luggage, only to find the battery was dead since he hadn't charged it in some time, but Molly said hers was charged and in her handbag. There was a top of the line sound system in the cottage and so they were listening to an assortment of music she'd put on what she called her Romantic playlist, a mix of classical songs, love songs from musicals and pop music. They'd both taken off their shoes, and he'd taken off his socks as well, and he was enjoying the feel of the plush carpeting beneath his feet. She had her feet tucked under her as she leaned back against him. He was sitting upright because he'd put an ottoman at his back for support, and he had an arm draped around her waist. “I take it you're enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” she said, nibbling on a piece of cheese. She'd brought a small assortment of savory biscuits and cheeses and a large bunch of grapes out with her, as well as a glass of wine for herself, and they both had been eating the food. “I'd always wanted to do something like this with...” She trailed off. “With other boyfriends, but they never seemed able to make the time. If anything we'd get an overnight stay at a nice hotel for one night, but that was it, and we'd be out by eight AM. No getting to linger in bed because there simply wasn't time.”

He knew she had meant Tom specifically, but he let it pass without comment. He knew quite a bit about that relationship, along with the men she'd been with before him, and he got the feeling that while he wasn't the same way as most of them were, not as romantic or extravagant, she didn't mind, mostly because he tried. In fact, he strongly suspected she preferred him, especially when compared to Tom. She knew that Tom had really been an inferior substitute, and now that she had the man she preferred and things were going well she was much happier. That stoked his ego quite a bit. “If we're able to, maybe we can do this other times. Most likely not at such an extravagant place, but nice enough.”

She pulled away slightly and he frowned until she turned to look at him, wide smile on her face. “I would like that a lot, Sherlock.”

“Then we'll make tentative plans for it,” he said, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as the song changed. It sounded vaguely familiar, but not quite. “Is that a new song playing?” he asked.

She nodded. “A friend of mine sent it to me. I'm fairly sure it was taken from YouTube or something, but I like it. It's a mash-up of two songs I'm fond of.” She moved closer and leaned in. “It starts off with a Taylor Swift song, then segues into an Ellie Goulding song, and goes back and forth.”

“And it works well?” he asked. He knew Molly liked remixes and covers of songs, but this was new. He hadn't heard two existing songs mixed together before.

She nodded. “It does. This particular song was retitled 'Love Me Like Your Style,' since it's a mashup of 'Style' and 'Love Me Like You Do.'”

He listened to it for a minute. He admittedly wasn't a fan of either singer, though he knew Molly was and he willingly listened to them both. They'd talked through the beginning of it, but it appeared to have hit the chorus now.

_You've got that James Dean daydream look in your eye_  
_And I got that red lip classic thing that you like_  
_And when we go crashing down we come back every time_  
_'Cause we never go out of style_  
_We never go out of style_

_Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do_  
_Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do_  
_Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do_  
_What are you waiting for?_

“It does seem to mesh remarkably well,” he said when the chorus ended. “I think I prefer this version to either of the original ones.”

“Then I'll just have to add it for you when we get back,” she said with a smile. “And then you can listen to it and think of me.”

“I think I'll associate it with this particular moment,” he said, moving his hand to pull her closer. “You and I alone with no distractions, rain outside and a crackling fire in front of us.”

“Perhaps we can make this moment even more special,” she said softly, leaning in towards him. “I mean, if you think you want to.” He didn't answer, instead closing the distance between them and kissing her. She pressed herself against him, keeping herself as close as she could get as she kissed him back deeply. He moved his hand back up to her hair and tangled his fingers in it, enjoying this moment and burning it into his memory. After a few minutes Molly moved her hands between them, beginning to unbutton his shirt. He could tell her fingers were trembling slightly as she did, but he made no move to stop her. Instead he moved his hand again, moving it towards the top of the dress to find the zipper. Once he found it he slowly lowered it, though it was trickier than he had thought it would be. She pulled away from the kiss when his shirt was halfway unbuttoned and grinned at him. “Do you need my help?”

“I think I do,” he said.

“It's much easier to unzip a dress when you're standing up. It doesn't bunch up as much,” she said, pulling away from him and standing up. Then she motioned for him to do the same. “I think it will be easier to get you out of your clothes this way, too.”

He grinned back slightly and stood up, moving close to her again. She placed her hands on the bare skin of his chest that was showing and then went back to work on the buttons. He let her do that while he ran his fingers up and down her upper spine, and when she got the shirt unbuttoned to the waistband she pulled it out and got the rest of the buttons undone seconds later. That was when he pulled her against him and finished unzipping her dress. “What happens next?” he asked quietly, going back to running his fingers up and down her back.

“More kissing, for a start, and getting the rest of the clothes off,” she said when she looked up at him. “I think I'll be nice and help you with my bra, but eventually you need to learn.”

“It's not that complicated, is it?” he asked.

“Depending on which type I'm wearing it can be,” she said with a soft laugh. “You can try, if you want, but first you have to finish taking the dress off.”

He nodded and then slid his hand up to her shoulder blades and over to the strap. He gently pushed it down and then pulled his hand away before moving to the other side. She shimmied slightly and the dress fell down to the belt around the waist, leaving her nearly naked from the waist up, with her breasts covered in a lacy white bra. He took a moment to appreciate the view he had so far. He'd found she had very soft skin, and for a moment he ran a finger from her collarbone down and then along the top curve of her breast. Then he pulled his hand away and moved it under the bunched up fabric at her waist, going for the buckle of the belt. That was fairly easy to undo, and when it was loose enough he moved his hands to her waist, taking the fabric of the dress in his hands and pulling it down her hips until it fell to the floor at her feet. She stepped out of the circle of fabric with one foot and used the other to kick it away. He let his hands settle on her waist, his finger skimming the top edge of her white lace knickers on the way there. “The bra next, I suppose.”

“Well, if you want to be fair, you can help me finish taking off your shirt,” she said. “I'm horrible with undoing cuffs.”

“Then let's see about making things fairer,” he said, taking a slight step back to have more room between them. He removed his hands from her hips and worked on his left cuff first, and then his right. When he was done she put her hands on his bare chest and slid them up to his shoulders. She pushed the open shirt off and then worked on getting it off one arm, then the other. She was remarkably adept at doing that, he realized. Better at it than he was on his own at times. She then moved her hands down to the waistband of his trousers and then paused. “Molly?” he asked with a frown.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” she asked as she looked up at him.

He hesitated just a moment, then put his hands over hers. “I think you're more nervous about this than I am,” he said.

“I just worry it will all go horribly wrong and you'll decide you never want to do this again and it will all be my fault,” she said. “I mean, I've never actually...you know.”

“Taken someone's virginity?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded. “Every other man I've been with has been experienced. Maybe not much more than I was, but enough that it worked out well enough, even if it wasn't actually all that good. But now _I'm_ the one with experience and I'm not sure I'll be a good enough teacher.”

He looked at her intently. He had wondered if he could give up control, let her teach him. But perhaps this first time, he should let her do what she pleased and learn what he could from the experience instead of having her guide him. That could always happen later. “Perhaps this time you could simply do what you pleased,” he said slowly.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You mean...I can do whatever I want? No matter what it is?”

“So long as you don't think it will turn me off shagging forever,” he said. “I mean, you are wanting to do this more than once, right?”

“As often as possible,” she breathed, and then she quickly pulled her hands away from his and clamped them over her mouth. “Oh, God. I can't believe I said that out loud.”

He grinned at that, and a soft chuckle escaped. He couldn't help it. As nervous as she was she assumed it would go well enough that they would start spending a large portion of their time together in bed. And the fact she didn't think he wanted to hear it amused him. She gave him a strange look and he reached over and lowered her hands, caressing them. “I don't mean to laugh,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

After a moment she was wearing a small smile of her own. There was a bright gleam of amusement in her eyes, and that just made him grin wider. “Well, at least we can laugh about this,” she said. “My mum always said if you can't laugh about shagging than you're with the wrong man.”

“Well, we'll have plenty of opportunities to have a chuckle while I practice,” he said, pulling her closer. “I just have to hope I find it more amusing than frustrating.”

She framed his face in her hands. “I'll try very hard to help you keep your sense of humor about it all, Sherlock,” she said with a warm smile.

“Good,” he said before leaning forward and kissing her. After a moment she moved her hands down, settling them on the waistband of his trousers again. She undid them quickly and then lowered the zipper. After a moment's hesitation she ran her hand over his already hard erection through the fabric of his pants, and he shuddered slightly at the touch. There had been a few thoughts as to what might happen if they did move their relationship forward, but he hadn't expected to feel quite a sense of excitement, for lack of a better word. The caress was brief, though, as she moved her hands back up to the waistband to push the trousers off his hips. Soon enough they were pooled at his feet, and he kicked them to the side.

She pulled away from the kiss and looked around, studying the surrounding slightly. She glanced at the sofa and the floor, as though considering things, and then she looked back at him. “You really want me to be in control of this?” she asked.

He nodded. “I would rather have this be enjoyable for both of us, if it can be.”

“All right,” she said. “This is going to be interesting.”

“What is?” he asked curiously.

She looked as though she was trying to figure out how to explain what she was thinking for a moment before she spoke. “I may be more experienced than you are, but most of the other men I've been with prefer the position where they're in control, when they're on top. With the situation as it is, though, I think I can guide better if _I'm_ on top. But I've only shagged that way twice, so...” 

“So it's still not something you're entirely comfortable with,” he said.

“Exactly,” she replied. 

“At least this will put us on more equal footing,” he said, and he watched a smile form on her face. “Tell me exactly what I need to do.”

“You can't shag when you've got clothes on,” she said. Then she paused. “Well, you _can_ , if you're having a 'quick shag in the afternoon' type shag, but certain bits of clothing have to come off, and they happen to be the bits of clothing we still have on. So I suppose you can either attempt to remove a bra or let me do it.”

“I think this time I'll watch,” he said. “Perhaps I can learn by example.” She nodded and then reached behind her. He stepped closer and looked over her shoulder and towards the center of her back as she quickly undid the clasp. He looked at her face when she looked up, then back over her shoulder. “I thought you said it was much more complicated.”

“Well, I've had over twenty years practice putting them on and taking them off,” she said with a chuckle. “It's even more amazing watching me take one off when I'm still wearing a shirt.”

“I definitely want to see that at one point,” he said, moving his hand to her right shoulder and lowering the strap. After it was down on her arm he pressed a kiss to the hollow of her neck, and she reached forward to grab him for support. “You enjoyed that?” he murmured, his lips above her skin.

“God yes,” she said. “I know we really haven't been that adventurous before, but I do enjoy being kissed other places than my lips.”

“Like where?” he asked, lowering his lips to her skin again when he was done.

“My neck, especially above my pulse point,” she said, her voice slightly breathy. “Anywhere on my chest and abdomen. That includes my breasts, but kissing my stomach is actually something I like more.” She paused. “And...lower.”

“Cunnilingus,” he said, moving his lips more towards her pulse point. He got a brief nod in return that he felt more than saw. “Anything else I should know?”

“I've wondered...what it might be like if teeth were used. Not anything hard, not enough to leave marks, but...just a bit of teeth.” She paused. “I'm not asking you to, if you're not comfortable.” He responded by pulling a bit of skin over her pulse point between his teeth and she moaned softly, clutching at him tightly. “ _Sherlock._ ”

He grinned at that. Making her moan his name made him feel that he might not be as bad at this as he was worried he could be. “You did say you wanted to be in control,” he said when he pulled away. “I'm doing as I'm told.”

“Again. Please,” she said. He lowered his head again and repeated his actions, and she reached up for his shoulders and dug her nails in. He had to admit, when she did that he could definitely see how pain could be pleasurable. But almost as soon as she realized she had done it she pulled her hands away and took a step back. “I didn't mean to do tha--”

He cut her off by kissing her again, a more demanding kiss than usual. He pulled her as close as he could, and the feel of her breasts against his bare chest excited him. It must have done the same for her because she clung to him and returned the kiss with the same amount of desire, to the point that when they finally pulled apart both of them were breathing hard. He looked at her intently. “You are more than welcome to do that whenever you want,” he said, his voice low and throaty.

She nodded slowly, and then put space between them before reaching for the waistband of his pants. She slowly pulled them away from his skin and began to peel them off of his body. Once his erection was free he let go of her so that she could pull them lower, and then he stepped out of them when she got them low enough. He was going to ask what she wanted him to do next as she stood up, but then she put a hand around his erection and began to stroke him. He shut his eyes as she did; he wouldn't deny that there were times he had dealt with an unexpected erection through masturbation, but there was something altogether different about having someone else do it to him. He had the feeling if he had to deal with the situation himself after this he would picture this moment in his mind and imagine the feel of her hand around him.

After a few minutes of that she pulled her hand away. “Lie down on the floor, on your back,” she said. He nodded and did as he was told, looking up at her. She moved her hands towards the waistband of her knickers and began to push them down. He was riveted as he watched, and soon she had them around her ankles. She stepped out of them and straightened up again. She caught him staring at her and blushed slightly. “You're looking at me as if I'm a goddess or something.”

“What I'm seeing now in front of me might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” he said. “I know I've told you you look beautiful before, but..”

Her blush deepened slightly as she moved closer. She got down on her knees next to him and leaned over to kiss him softly. After a moment he sat up as she sat back more, never breaking the kiss. His hands went to her hair and he let his fingers play in it. When she finally pulled away she rested her forehead against his. “You don't know what that means to me, Sherlock,” she said softly.

“Quite a bit, I assume,” he said.

“It's something I've wanted to hear for so long,” she said. She leaned in and kissed him again, though much more quickly this time. “Now on your back.” He reluctantly pulled away from her and went back onto his back again. She moved, putting one leg on either side of his body and positioning herself over him. After a moment he reached forward to put his hands on her hips to steady her, and she gave him a reassuring smile. Then she grasped his erection in her hands and lowered herself onto it, moving slowly. He made it a point to stay as still as he could though all his instincts were screaming at him to buck up his hips and drive himself deeper. Finally she seemed to have taken him in completely and she leaned forward slightly. “You are definitely bigger than I expected,” she said.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” he said.

“As you should.” She appeared to think for a moment. “I'll do most of the work, but keep your hands on my hips. Use your hands to push me down a bit more when I start moving down again but _don't_ use too much pressure.” He nodded and she began to move, lifting herself up again. When she stopped he was nearly all of the way out but then she lowered herself again. He guided her with a bit of force, and lifted his hips up at the same time. She gasped and he froze, but then she said “Oh, God, _yes_ ” before pulling out again. He did the same thing he had done before and got another gasp in response.

Soon they were building up a rhythm, and it was getting quicker. The sensations he was feeling were exquisite, and he felt a tension inside him that was similar to a spring being coiled. He could tell that Molly was experiencing some very intense sensations herself as he watched her shut her eyes and bit her lip to swallow back the moans. But when she began to tighten around him she couldn't hold it back, moaning his name loudly. That was all he needed to reach his own release, and he arched his hips up hard and held the two of them in place as his own release happened. After a moment it was done, and he lowered his hips to the floor again as Molly leaned forward, bracing herself by putting a hand on either side of his head. She was breathing quite hard but she also had a look of intense satisfaction on her face. “So I did well?” he asked, running a hand from her hip up her sweat slicked back.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, nodding slightly. “Very well. Was it satisfactory for you?”

“I wouldn't say no for another round later,” he said.

“Good,” she said, smiling down at him before leaning in to kiss him. It was a soft kiss, and a very lazy one at that. Then she pulled away, her grin getting wider. “Congratulations, Sherlock. You're a fully-fledged non-virginal man now.”

He gave her a grin back. “I'll feel more accomplished in my manhood after I explore a few other things when it comes to shagging,” he said. “I could do with some lessons.”

“And I will be more than happy to volunteer my services as educator,” she said. “We'll have our next lesson as soon as I can stand up.”

“And just what lesson will that be?” he asked.

“The joys of mutual showers,” she said.

He moved his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her head closer. “I think that will be a very informative lesson,” he said quietly before kissing her again. With the way she was kissing him back he got the feeling that perhaps there might be a missed dinner reservation in their future, if he could regain his stamina, but he didn't seem to mind and he didn't think she would either, to be honest. He realized that this weekend could quite possibly be the best thing to happen to him and their relationship and for that he owed Irene...but not enough for details. There were simply some things he wanted to keep between himself and Molly, and the intimate details of this weekend fell under that.


End file.
